on Saturday mornings, I wake up and come downstairs and open my blinds. I settle into that sweet spot on my couch – pillows high behind my head, my hips perfectly pressing into the deepest spot of the couch, a blanket over some of my body and not over other parts as to keep the temperature just perfect. I can see out of the window, I can hear the birds chirping, and this feels so good, so right, that I think I’ll just stay here for a bit.
life has been full of those little moments lately, moments where I have no clue what the day holds, what my tomorrows hold, or even what the next month of my life will look like.
but I am learning to surrender to these moments. I am convinced that the Lord is in sweet times. just as much as I need Him to be in my future, I think He needs me to be in my present. because how else could this moment be so perfect without His divine hand orchestrating the birds to sing, arranging for my lungs to rise and fall, sending the sunshine so delicately through the trees that I am lost in the beauty of it all. I think He wants me lost and noticing.
I am learning to do the next thing before me. while sometimes I struggle to figure out what that is, a lot of the time it is so easy to know what my next moment holds. it feels holy and sacred as I feel my feet step into the Father’s path.
it has looked like applying for the job that, literally, three months ago, I said I would never do, in a town I swore I wouldn’t stay in. my next moment looked like that application and watching the Father do what only He can do, whether it is that job or not.
it has looked like placing my dream of Texas on the shelf for a bit because that does not seem to be what the Lord is whispering right now. it has looked like laying the bitterness over a dream delayed aside because God is sweeter than my dreams and that is no cliche, but a real truth that He has made known. it has looked like wasted months, only to get me to the opportunity that I was made to pursue (and needed three months to come around to).
it has looked like spending the day with my sister. reconciliation and restoration must be the Father’s business, I’m sure of it. it has looked like “I miss you” snapchats and “okay, I’ll come home”s. it has sounded like “dinner, my treat” because love is so deep and so divine.
it has looked like being in the in-between – not quite an adult, but looking to buy a bed and furniture and a place to live; not quite a child, but being homesick for a town you never knew you’d crave. it has looked like loving this roof over my head, even though it is not mine and it will be even more not mind when I move out in a few weeks.
it has sounded like sermons on money, time, and generosity. it has looked like preparing for my future – budgeting for it, arranging for it, being a little scared of it, and learning to trust the Father with it. it has sounded like life learned in a way that I never knew I was missing.
it has been waking up and feeling heartbreak over the turmoil that the world is. it has been not understanding and aching because of it. and it has been committing to prayer and seeking the Father because I don’t know how to fix the mountain before me, but until I know what else to do, I can and will do this, this will be my next thing – finding Him in the chaos.
and it has felt like the couch rising to meet me, like my down comforter perfectly enveloping me, like pillows that bow to my weary head. it has felt like being able to do my job and do it well, like walking around campus with a friend who has come to know my innermost parts and has stuck around for it, like the tears after a FaceTime date because life has changed, but omg, it is so sweet and I cannot handle that. it has felt a lot of ways, all of them feeling right, even when confusion and heartbreak and misunderstanding do not feel “right”. doing the next thing before me has felt so incredibly right.
and in all the “never knew”s, my cup has overflowed (and my eyes as the tears have run). it’s like the Lord’s plan is happening around me and I am in the eye of it, with perfect contentment and peace and a place to rest. all my spinning over the last year, and I wish I would have just surrendered it all. this is life full, this is peace that passes understanding, this is my Father’s work.
I am sure that any moment now, my heart will burst. surely it cannot handle this much pleasure, this much joy, or this much love. there are more questions than answers and somehow, I would not change a thing.
Jesus, You satisfy.